Sacrifice was a knight's noblest virtue...
Percival, standing in the great hall, recalled Galahad's abrupt choice to touch that light before him, as well as his act of giving him the red-hilted sword. He could not help but freeze where he stood.
So you had known all along.
At that moment, Bors, who had also realized it too late, was stunned as well, his gaze shifting away in shame.
The goddess before the steps took in both their reactions, and a silent sigh escaped her lips.
Of the three, Bors was too worldly, Percival too innocent, while Galahad possessed both a pure spirit and sufficient wisdom. He was not merely the most outstanding of this small team, but the finest among the Round Table's next generation, even bearing the mission of succeeding her or Lancelot and commanding the entire Round Table.
However...
"Sir Lancelot..."
Artoria passed the two men, each wearing a different expression, and came before the hunched Knight of the Lake holding the red-hilted sword. Her lips moved slightly as she murmured softly.
"I permit you to withdraw from the coming operation. Go back and rest..."
"My King, I appreciate your kindness."
Lancelot came back to himself, straightened his body, and regained the calmness in his eyes as he spoke solemnly.
"To give his life to save others, to save Britain—that was his choice, and it was a knight's honor. There is nothing to grieve over."
Then, the Knight of the Lake paused, his expression turning grave.
"His mission has already been completed. Now it is our turn. Only by finding the thing capable of accomplishing every miracle as soon as possible can his efforts avoid becoming meaningless. Therefore, please allow me to take part in the next operation and complete this unfinished great undertaking together!"
Lancelot struck